


Masque

by Broken_Clover



Category: Guilty Gear
Genre: Blood, Bloodletting, Plague Medicine, and I am sorry, i have no idea what this is, it's just weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23586550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Clover/pseuds/Broken_Clover
Summary: A cure for what ails you
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Masque

**Author's Note:**

> Social distancing is slowly pushing me halfway to madness so this probably makes barely any sense.

It hadn’t taken long for a crowd to accumulate. Though the moon had long revealed her face, it seemed as though half the town had forsaken their beds in the name of gathering outside the rickety old building nestled into its outskirts. A few had brought torches for visibility, though there were no signs of weapons to go along with them, at least not yet.

In spite of their initial bravery, nobody dared to approach the door immediately. They lingered, glancing at one another in the hopes of someone being willing to take charge. One of the most fiery-tempered of them ultimately found himself willing to reach out to the worn-out brass knocker and bang it against the wood. 

The noise echoed inside the building’s high walls. Their leader’s bravado faltered, and for a moment, they held onto some kind of slim hope that the building’s owner had not heard the sound. It was a futile hope, and they all knew it, but it did nothing to stifle their collective unease as the front door creaked open.

The man standing in the doorway was a peculiar one. ‘Standing’ almost seemed like a misnomer. His knees rose up to his chest and his spine sloped like a feasting vulture, yet somehow he still managed to tower over the crowd by several inches. His face was hidden away under a sturdy mask, which clashed harshly with his otherwise-immaculate clothing.

“Yes…?” The strange man spoke to the crowd in a quiet hiss, accentuated by the slight tilt of his head. 

Nobody dared speak. When the awkward silence stretched into minutes, the strange, gangly man stooped even further to duck out of the building. The crowd flinched back as he stretched out to his full height, staring down with the mask’s blank glass eyes.

“You disturb my work so late into the night, yet none of you can bring yourselves to speak?” There was the faintest hint of disdain in his voice.

A shrill scream resounded somewhere within the building behind them. The tall man turned his head, but otherwise remained still. 

“What on earth is that ungodly racket?!” Someone shouted, tone a mix of anger and fear.

When one person was willing to speak, the rest of the group followed suit.

“What sort of experiments are you doing in there?!”

“Someone call the church!”

“It’s troublesome enough that you be allowed to do your accursed work here, doctor, must you keep the entire town awake as well?”

 _“ENOUGH.”_ The man’s voice sharpened into a growl. The crowd immediately hushed under his glare. “I should not have to assure you of my intentions. How many of your people have I treated? I cure your children of their maladies, and you accuse me of wrongdoing?”

As if on cue, another scream resounded. His posture slumped at the sound of it.

A housewife took a hesitant step forward. “Doctor Faust...what is that sound?”

He turned back to them. “A patient, of course. His mother asked that I care for him. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to return to my work.”

Just as suddenly as he’d appeared, the door slammed shut once more. The people of the crowd looked at one another, slowly dissolving with a shared sense of unease.

++++++

The basement’s stairs were just large enough to accommodate his gangly figure. Faust stooped down all the way, unconcerned with how the wood creaked underfoot.

“So you’re awake again...I was hoping the ether would last a bit longer.”

The basement itself was empty and dull. There was little for the oil lamps to cast their light onto. Pushed into the corner, a wooden bedframe piled with hay and ratty blankets seemed to be the only real object of interest, if only for how much it jolted and creaked.

Faust picked one of the lamps off of the tabletop. “And already so agitated? Concerning…”

He approached the bed as it jerked back and forth. With his free hand, he analyzed a band of metal that circled around one of the bedposts. When he felt sure of its stability, he followed the heavy iron links that connected the post to a pale, trembling hand, and gave it a gentle pat.

“Easy, little one. I’m here now.”

Wide, frightened eyes zipped back and forth, snapping to focus on the man’s spindly frame as he began to speak. Faust wasn’t sure if he was going to get a response. Sometimes he didn’t. Other times he did, but it was barely coherent. There was never a consistent pattern. It was part of what made this one so especially difficult compared to his other patients. All he could do was try his best and study whatever results he managed.

“How are you feeling?”

“I…” The sound was a barely-discernible crackle. Without thinking, Faust leaned in closer. The man immediately threw himself backwards, only to begin screaming and thrashing.

“It’s alright, it’s only me-”

“NO! NO NO NO NO NO GET AWAY FROM ME!”

“Breathe. Calm yourself.”

He learned against the frame to keep it from shaking and creaking so much. The one shackle did a well-enough job restricting movement, though Faust had to keep an eye out for flailing limbs. Perhaps he could try adding more. He’d considered it before- his patient did have a habit of kicking and scratching when agitated and frightened- he’d think about finding more.

“Breathe, little one,” Faust spoke calmly, reaching out to press against a chest that rose and fell erratically. “You’re going to harm yourself.”

“Th-they’re in my brain! The spirits are whispering into my brain!”

“Easy, easy now.” He murmured, patting a sweat-soaked temple with a kerchief. “You’re working yourself into such a fuss again. Haven’t we discussed this before? There’s no spirits. You’re simply very ill.”

The squirming slowed. “I w-w- I want my mother. Where is she?”

“She’s at home, don’t you remember? And you’re here with me.”

“With...you…?”

The man nodded. “That’s correct.”

“You’re- ?”

“Doctor Faust, of course.” He smiled behind his mask. “Though I’m concerned you don’t remember. You’ve been here several weeks. Perhaps some form of short term memory lapses?”

“I-I…” He stammered feebly. “I don’t...”

Another nod. “I’ll figure it out in due time. There’s a reason I was entrusted with you. I’m not one to brag, but I am an excellent doctor.”

Despite his assurances, he seemed to be growing more distressed, breaths going sharp once more. “Is something wrong?”

“Nnh- sh-s-stop-” He squeezed his eyes shut and began hyperventilating. “SHUT UP! Make them stop! Make them stop talking!!”

“Another episode? And so soon?” Faust stood up, tilting his head curiously. “That shouldn’t be happening.”

It vanished as quickly as it had arrived, but the short amount of time seemed to have taken a significant amount of energy out of his patient. He whimpered brokenly, only supported by the wood against his back and the metal chain holding him up.

“How are you feeling?” The doctor asked.

“H-hurts…”

“I see.” He nodded solemnly. “Then I suppose it’s time to issue your next treatment.” 

A locked box sat on the basement shelf, far too high for anyone but Faust to reach. After sitting it down on the table, he pulled out an old key and unlocked the latch. Inside, a set of sharp metal instruments sat in a neat row beside a bowl. He selected one of the lancets, polished to a mirror-shine.

“Give me your hand.”

“Huh?”

Faust reached out and took it anyway, keeping a tight grip as he pulled the limb out to its full extent and twisted until the underside was visible.

“Wait, w-what are you-”

He pressed the sharp tip into the crook of the man’s arm, piercing the soft flesh until a stream of blood sprung forth and spilled out onto the both of them. As soon as he saw his own blood, his patient began wailing in fear.

“Ah, shh- there’s no need for that.” Faust calmly assured him. “I know it stings, but you’ll feel better once the humours balance out.”

“S-s-stop it, you’re h-hurting me- !”

“Just relax. It will hurt less if you sit still.”

He still cried, and rather noisily. It didn’t deter. Faust watched the stream roll down in the bottom of the bowl and slowly fill. A few resistant yanks made the line warp, leaving behind a thin trail of blood, shimmering wetly on bare skin until it dried.

“You’re doing marvellously. Absolutely marvellously. Keep it up, and I’ll give you something special.”

With enough blood removed, the sharp cries softened into hardly-audible whines. 

“There we are. Equilibrium. Doesn’t that feel better?”

“N-nhhh-”

“Shhh. Don’t talk if it’s difficult. Just rest now.” Faust picked up his tools and climbed off of the bed. “I’ll put these away, and then I can give you the reward I promised.”

From further along on the shelf, he pulled down a metal tin. The sound of sloshing echoed inside as he placed it down. It didn’t look especially exciting when he unlatched the container. It had the same clarity and consistency as water, but a sweet smell wafted off from its surface.

Faust retrieved his handkerchief again, dipping one end into the liquid and letting it soak. The excess ran down his wrist when he pulled it back out to wring it. No point in wasting supplies. Especially if he was going to need it more often.

Ah, well. There was plenty for now. He could worry about it later.

Even in his befuddled state, his patient still pulled away as he brought the damp fabric to his face.

“Here we are. Breathe it in.”

He resisted, of course, he always did at first. But there wasn’t much he could do in response. One large hand held the back of his head so he couldn’t pull away, while the other moved the rag closer until it covered his face. Soon enough, the familiar pleasant scent caught his attention, and he began to lean into it.

“Lovely, isn’t it? Nice and sweet. Now you take a nice, long nap. Hopefully you’ll be more relaxed in the morning.”

Ether was remarkably efficient, even moreso when his patients complied. Not a minute later, the man had gone completely unconscious.

“Good boy.” Faust said, stroking his hair affectionately. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out soon.”

A few extra moments were spared to pull a worn blanket back up over his chest. There was no guarantee it wouldn’t be kicked off in the middle of the night, but it was the sentiment that counted. A second square of fabric was used to wipe off his dirty lancet before it was put back into line with the rest of them.

From the other side of the box, he pulled out a thin, long tube of metal. Admiring how it glimmered, he gave it an experimental twist, watching how the light bounced off of sawteeth on the sharp-edged end.

“Perhaps I could try trephination next time. A more delicate procedure, but it may yet do you some good...”


End file.
